


a field guide to bad ideas

by honey_wheeler



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuation of Pandora and Cook’s scene in S3x04.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a field guide to bad ideas

This might be one of those classic bad ideas that her mum is always talking about. Pandora can’t be sure. The trouble with bad ideas is that they usually don’t _seem_ like bad ideas until after you’ve gone and done them and can look back from where you are. She needs a handbook or something, sort of like those guides she’s seen for birdwatchers that show you how to identify the different kinds.

But even if this _is_ a bad idea, it’s the only thing that’s made her party worthwhile so far, so fuck it. So what if the Twister mat is sticking to her back and that she doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands and that she’s never thought of Cook like this, like someone who would want to touch her or kiss her, let alone surf her. That last part is actually the best bit. There aren’t many things Pandora likes better than a surprise.

Cook’s hand is down there and it’s _rubbing_ on her. No one’s ever touched her there before. Well, except herself, and she was kind of bollocks at it since she always got confused and uncomfortable and sometimes a little bored before she got anywhere good, but this is good, this is _amazing_ , and all she can think to say is, “My cat does that.”

“Sorry?” he says, looking up at her. But his hand is still going and she has trouble looking him in the eye while he’s doing _that_ so she stares at this one painting on the wall that she’s always hated.

“My cat. He moves his paws like that, I mean. He doesn’t do it _there_ ,” she hastens to explain when she realizes what it sounds like. “Just on your arm or on a pillow or something, and my mum hates it because his claws ruin everything, and it would really hurt, wouldn’t it, if he did it with his claws, um, _there_ , and oh gosh, why haven’t you told me to shut up yet?”

“I’m waiting to see how weird this gets,” Cook answers with a laugh, and then he’s got his hand under her shorts and she’s not thinking about her cat at all anymore. She jerks a little when she feels his fingers pressing into her. He pauses and looks up at her. She knows he’ll stop if she wants, which is why she feels okay not stopping.

“Is this part of it?” she asks. Her cheeks feel all hot just asking, but Effy never said anything about this sort of stuff so Pandora can’t tell if this is what usually happens or not.

“Yeah,” Cook says. “Well, not always. See, it’s like cake.” This is good. Pandora loves it when cake is involved. “You can have a plain old piece of cake and it’s fine, yeah? But then you can add frosting and layers and little bits of fruit and… I dunno, sprinkles, maybe, and it’s even better.”

“Okay,” Pandora nods. “You can keep going now.” She touches the top of his head with one hand, his hair springy under her fingertips. He gives her one of those grins he always gives Effy or the other girls, the girls who are more like girls than Pandora usually manages to be, and boy, that’s another surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the surprise she gets when, in one practiced move, he tugs her shorts down her legs and puts his tongue on her.

Her fingers are fisted in that springy hair now, her legs wrapped up around him so that she can feel the whorls of his ears against the inside of her thighs. It feels like the drop of a roller coaster or like the biggest sneeze in the world is building up in her stomach or, or…normally she has seven billion words for anything but the only words she has now are “please, Cook, _please_.” But just when she feels like it’s right there and she’s going to get to figure out what it _is_ , he stops and moves up to lean over her, his hands on either side of her head.

“Is that it?” she asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“No,” he says. “I just wanted to get you ready for the next part.”

“The cake part,” she says. He laughs at her, but it’s not one of those mean laughs people always do at her. It’s a nice laugh, one that makes his eyes crinkle.

“The cake part,” he agrees.

“So was that the sprinkles, what you just did?” He laughs again

“Sure, that was the sprinkles.”

“I like sprinkles,” she says emphatically.

He leans down and says, like he’s telling her a secret, “I like sprinkles too. And if you’re ever with a bloke who says he doesn’t and won’t give them to you, he’s a cunting arsehole not fit to sniff your knickers and you should dump him, all right Panda?”

She giggles. “Yeah, all right.”

“You ready for cake now?”

“Ready!” she says, and then she laughs at herself because she sounds like she’s about to go on a mission to the Moon or something, but then maybe she is.

It hurts a bit. Not a whole lot, but a little, the way it does when she pinches her finger in a drawer or something. “All right?” he asks, and she can tell he really wants to know, he’s not just asking to be nice, so she smiles and nods. She’s never had anyone focused on her like this, like she's the only important thing right now, so it's easy to ignore the hurting part, and the good stuff comes back pretty quickly when he works his hand down there to touch her and then it’s just about brilliant. If she could just carry it around forever, this exact feeling, she could almost forget that she’d ever felt useless in her life.

She can tell it isn’t going to last long this time. He’s moving faster now, his breath coming in pants against her ear, and somehow she knows she’s not going to get to figure out what “it” is this time either, but it’s okay. It stills feels better than just about anything. And she figures no one is perfect at anything the first time, even normal girls. So she just puts her arms around his back, holding him tight when he stiffens against her and shouts, then collapses with his face in her hair. He’s just the right amount of heavy on her and she thinks this part, the lying together exhausted afterwards part, is almost as good as all the other stuff.

“Cookie?” she asks after a few minutes, after she’s memorized how she feels to remember later.

“Mmm?” His voice is sleepy and rough and she feels it all through her stomach and hips where he’s still pressed against her. She can’t help tilting her hips up and rubbing against him a little. He says, “mmm,” again, but interested this time, and it makes her brave enough to ask.

“Can we do it again? I mean, we don’t have to. I’d like to, but if you don’t want to, that’s cool, this is already more attention than anyone’s paid me for ages.” To her own ears she sounded cheerful, but when he lifts his head he’s got that sad look on his face, the one people get when she says something out loud that she should have just said quietly inside her head. “So…can we?”

“’Course we can,” he says. “You just have to give me a few. You took it out of me.” He buries his face against her neck and growls, making her squeal and giggle. She can feel his earring, cool and hard against her cheek. She’d never realized there was so much to sex.

“That’s fine,” she says. “This is nice too.” And it is.


End file.
